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The Pages of a Book
= The Pages of a Book = Posted by : White_Caribou on Apr 3, 2018, 5:58am - August 20th, Corbet Estate, Highholm, Afternoon - She tapped her fingers as she sat in her study which was claimed from the deceased. The recent events outside of Highholm had escaped her mind for the moment, even the one at the mill which belonged to no one until the Council released the deceased's will to his family. "It doesn't make sense," Stella groaned looking through some books. The thump of darts was heard across the room. "Well of course it doesn't, it's advanced literature surrounding psychology." Westley nodded his head to the side whilst speaking. Her index finger clawed at the table anxiously. "I know what it is but why must I look into it?" "To keep up the act like you really gave a damn about him. If you don't want to raise questions I recommend you act according to what the average person would feel in a time like this. I know it's odd to be what you aren't." He pulled them from the board and proceeded to store the metal-tipped darts into a wicker drawer. She looked up abruptly with a furrowed brow, "Who's to say I didn't give a damn when he died? When you lost your wife did you not feel isolated from the world? Does that loneliness mean nothing?!" Stella shouted with her nails digging into the table. "How did you manage the guilt?" Silence floated heavily in the air. "Why on earth would I need to feel that way?" He slowly made his way to her as she stuck her nose into a different book, a look of confusion crossed him. "Claire was sick." The beating lump in her chest dropped. Boiling droplets beaded her eyes. Her posture had turned to slumping down into her chair. His hand rested on the back as he hovered over what she was reading. The page was turned to an aged portrait of a man slitting his stunned victim's throat from behind, the caption and the paragraphs surrounding spoke of murder, hatred, and the loss of control. Stella's eyes were glued to the page. The silence had crept in again. "Did...," Westley shook his head in thought to shake the alarming vision out of his head, "what do..." He tried to force anything off the top of his frazzled mind but it was all blocked by panic. His breathing became quicker as Stella began to speak, quickly lifting herself from the chair to get out of the situation. Her long fingers crumpled the page in her palm and ripped it from the binding. "He didn't fall, I swear I didn--," the whispers were broken with a choked back sob as she halted with a hand on the door knob, the ball dropped to the floor. Her throat tightened when her eyes shut to cry. It was a battle to breathe but a victory to shed tears. Westley rushed over to her, instinct on fire, but she swatted his hands away when trying to keep her from the door. "Stella, please. You can talk to me. You know me," He looked into her watery eyes and for once had seen everything with a single glance, his hands had rested on both sides of her shaking shoulders. "What I've done is unforgiveable in the eyes of God! I will hang and you can't save me, not now. The time is up Westley, it'd happen sooner or later. Just please... let me turn myself in. It hurts to hide," she jerked herself, slamming her fists into his chest to get him away. He opened his mouth to say something but was utterly speechless. The beautiful woman he knew never spoke or acted this way. His hands moved to cup the sides of her face which was immediately beneficial for the moment. "Stella." Her eyes seemed to fade in and out of reality as if what were seen was different than the world in front. Finally they drifted back to him and her pupils enlarged more upon focusing. "We don't need to talk about this now, just tell me what can calm you? You're scaring me." The professor's thumb traced over the scratches as he tried to piece everything together. The obvious was-- well --obvious but he couldn't pry for more clear answers with her in this state. He couldn't help but notice she was completely different from mere seconds ago as soon as he reassured her. Puppy-dog eyes piercing, her hand carefully rested on his that was examining the wounds inflicted by his brother. "All I need is you," she leaned into his body, engulfed by the sudden shift in emotion. "Only you." Westley's hands moved to her waist as soon as she kissed him, hesitant, but pushing her against the desk in a smooth manner. He made no further movements as if to get the okay. Stella's touch was passionate, hungry, and invigorating; the answer translated quite well through her lips. A hand slowly trailed beneath the fabric of her petticoat, hers climbed up to his neck undoing the black tie. It was the wrong place and the wrong time...certainly inappropriate with recent events. His dead brother's wife. But to him it didn't matter. If it truly did help her then so be it. Jessy hurried away from the wall of which she was leaned against outside the room, hearing them talking a lot before. Her brain felt overloaded with information. First Enoch, then the strike, now this...? Had she done it or was it just her conscious tricking her into the blame? Was there an affair that had been carried out through her marriage? Why on earth was she speaking of this "God"? I could've heard it wrong. She went as far from the study as possible. Boy, next week would sure be a mouthful to her teacher, that is, if anyone was worth trusting anymore.